


First Brush

by etherealApostate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12076938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealApostate/pseuds/etherealApostate
Summary: Early meeting of Mikoto and Reisi, soon after Reisi's becoming king.Inspired by AM's "Do I Wanna Know."





	First Brush

“Lightweight,” Mikoto says. 

 

Your smirk deepens by one degree. “Only a barbarian would judge me by how much poison I can consume.”  _ How much of your poison can I consume? _

 

“You call me a barbarian,” Mikoto says. “What do you know.”

 

He always talks in statements.

 

“Are you not one of the highest families in this city? I say a high birth with your… outcome makes you lower than a street rat.” You let the last word drip from your lips, hanging, a challenge.

 

“A street rat. I can show you why you’re here.” 

 

He is not touching you, but his words press you against the wall all the same. 

 

You decide to humor him. “Why, then?” 

 

“Because….” And now he sets his drink down, and stands. You stay, willingly petrified, waiting. 

 

“You want it.” 

 

And now his body is pressing against yours in the flesh, and a shock runs through you, right from your shoulders and directly into the divot of your thighs and the heart of your whiskey-drenched desire. 

 

_ Deny me _ , his eyes say.  _ Deny me and pay that price _ . 

 

You want to pay that price, take that ride…. His eyes drift to your lips as you slowly swallow.

 

You lick your lips. 

 

You spit in his face. 

 

His eyes are dead again as he raises a hand to his chin. He wipes the pooling spittle from his jaw and licks his finger. You hope it tastes like sin. 

 

He presses a hand against the wall behind you. Your hand goes to the sword that is absent from your waist. His lips go to yours. 

 

Your tongue dives to his mouth, hungry and wanting, and it tastes whiskey under his gums. He shudders out a breath and sinks a little, and your arm comes up behind his back. 

 

You want him. You want to dominate him. 

 

He has other plans. 

 

He draws back from the kiss, and for the first time you see some spark in his eyes. 

 

Mikoto slowly raises a hand to your throat. You allow him this: he closes his hand around your windpipe, presses lightly -- he removes it. 

 

“Thanks for the whiskey,” he says.

 

In a half-moment, you are left alone in your apartment. 

 

You bite deep into the left of your lip. You feel the warmth of your blood.

 

You cannot quite calculate him, and it hurts.


End file.
